


Dream Painter

by maryjo24



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Assault, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Dream Sex, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Violence, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 05:59:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16781014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryjo24/pseuds/maryjo24
Summary: Up and coming artist Jared Padalecki is brutally attacked one night and comes out of it battered, his hands crushed, and unable to recall the hours preceding the attack. The only clues for those missing hours, and of his attacker, are apparently buried deep in his subconscious, revealed only in dreams and nightmares.Obsessively, Jared spends months in therapy of his own design, strengthening and retraining his damaged hands through painting on canvas after canvas the form of a single man. Who is this man, is he real – could he be Jared’s attacker, or is he someone else?





	Dream Painter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [J2 Reverse Bang Art Post #3 - Dream Painter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778023) by [TxDorA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TxDorA/pseuds/TxDorA). 



  


Jared jerks awake with a scream, the smells of decay and desperation dissipating even as the phantom pains lingered. The sheet bunching in his clenched hands, his heart racing, he breathes a jagged breath in, holds it, and lets it out in a whimpering sigh. He draws another breath in, holds, and pushes it back out, repeating until his heart slowed and breathing no longer felt like knives scraping his throat with each draw. 

Sighing, Jared stretches his body, feeling the tension unwind as most of the dream-fueled aches faded. His hands though, those aches never go away completely. Doc Beaver assures him that with time and therapy, it’ll get better. But he knows the damage was extensive. It’s easy enough to dismiss the other injuries from the attack, as bad as some of them were, he doesn’t remember how those happened, and they healed. 

But his hands, what happened to them is the only clear memory he has of that night. Everything after he waved Jeff off at the bar until he woke up in the hospital three days later seems to be lost, or at least buried deep in the recesses of his mind, coming out only to torment him as brutal flashes on the dreamscape. Funny how he can remember the feel and taste of the ice cold beer going down his throat and nothing beyond that but the sensations of the fingers of his left hand breaking in his attackers grip as he was slung to the concrete, then the crushing of those on his right as a heavy boot stomped on them over and over with agonizing clarity, until he heard the sounds of the hospital equipment. Dissociative amnesia, the diagnosis, usually temporary but with vividness that he remembers what little he does, he’s pretty sure he hopes that the rest never comes back.

Sighing over another night’s rest lost to HIM, Jared pulled his cramped fingers through his hair, grimacing at the feel of sweat in the strands. Debating a shower, the face that haunts him pushes him instead to his studio. Pulling on his old brown cardigan to stave off the chill of the night as he leaves his bedroom, crossing the hall to the studio. As he flicks on the overhead light, he wraps his arms around himself, comforted by the years’ worn soft knit, and stares at the latest work in progress canvas, one of many attempts to shed the anxiety that has been his constant companion since the attack, his occupational therapy to put a face to the nightmare and finally put it behind him.

He thinks he might be very nearly done with it, the dark somber colors that are now his usual pallet have painted the picture that is always in his mind. A leather-clad man sits astride a motorcycle, exuding confidence and maybe malice, he’s not quite sure and doesn’t think he will be until he finishes the face. The general shape and rough features seem right and yet not. Picking up his pallet, he squirts out dabs of primary colors, grabs a brush and begins fleshing out features.

  


  


“Oh my God! Is that HIM?”

Jared startled, barely pulling away the brush before striping an errant stroke across the canvas. Turning, he smiled wanly at his former model, now best friend, “Amy, you don’t knock anymore?”

“I did, you didn’t answer, so I let myself in.” The blonde woman crossed the room to stand next to him, her lips pursed in concentration as she stared at the painting. “Wow, that’s amazing. It’s practically like a photo.”

“I knew I’d regret giving you a key.” Jared retorted, leaning down to drop a kiss to the top of her head and studying the painting with fresh eyes. Painting was the one activity that once he began, he immersed himself, losing track of everything around him as his hands rendered the pictures in his mind, usually without even being fully cognizant of what he was putting on the canvas until it was done. And if the throbbing ache in his hand wasn’t telling, the bright sunlight streaming through the windows confirmed that he’d been at it for hours, and a fully fleshed out face to show for his efforts. It was HIM, the face of his nightmares. 

And yet something was off, as he stared at the angular face. High cheekbones and a strong jawline dominated a light complexion, hardening features that would otherwise be almost pretty on a man with his almost too full lips. He’d painted the eyes a light green, speckled like the skin of a ripening pear. The dark blonde, almost ginger colored, hair was short and cropped. If he didn’t have the associated horror, he would definitely find the man attractive. Yet, those full lips twisted in an angry snarl seemed out of place. Sure, it was what he’d often seen in his nightmares but now a softer, kinder expression tickles his memory. Flashes from out the corner of his eye him snapped him out of his reverie, “Wait…”

“There! Sent a few shots of this to Matt, now they’ll finally get the bastard.” Amy smiled with satisfaction, fully confident in the abilities of her detective boyfriend.

“Amy Gum, it wasn’t ready.” Jared grumbled, the old nickname he’d use when she’d fidget too much during a posing, letting her know of his frustration.

“What do you mean, it was him right? You’ve been working on it for months. Hell, I’d be able to pick that guy out of a line-up with this.”

Jared wasn’t sure why he was hedging other than, “It’s just not right yet, something feels off.”

“Well, let’s see what Matt and Lehne come up with, but if this leads them to the guy, you’ll finally be able put it behind you and get on with your life.”

She raised her hand and turned his face towards her, speaking softly, “And baby, you need that. Those talented hands have been idle too long.” She grins wickedly, “And Jeff’s refusing to put something on that foyer wall, says it’s going to be a JT original or nothing at all. You can’t condemn me to sit at my desk and stare at that blank wall forever, now can you?”

Jared chuckles and shakes his head, “No, that would be terrible. Alright, I’ll let your policeman buddy do his job, who knows, maybe nothing will come of it.”

“Good, now, you’re still too thin, I know you aren’t eating. Come to the kitchen and I’ll fix you some eggs and bacon before I have to get to the office. Jeff’s in court this morning, and you know he hates it when I’m at the office alone down there. So you reap the benefits.”

  


  


Fred Lehne slapped his young partner on the back as they crossed the street to get the Easy Rider Saloon.

“We’re so close I can taste it! If we can just get one person to ID him, and place him there that night, it’ll be enough to pull him in for questioning.”

Matt Cohen shook his head as he knocked on the locked door of the bar, too early for it to be open, “That was six months ago, Fred, it’s a long shot. And even if we can place him here, on that night, we can’t place him in the alley. And with Jared’s amnesia, he’s not going to be able to ID the guy as his attacker.” 

“If we get the ID, it’ll be enough to pull him in for questioning. We’ll put him in a line-up, maybe it’ll trigger something for your buddy, jog his memory, whatever. And there’s always the hard way, give me a chance to shake up that smug shithead, I’ll get him to confess.” Fred pounded on the door again.

“Looks like nobody’s here yet, probably a few hours before it opens. We’ll probably have to come back later. Fred, what is it about this guy anyway? Ever since you saw the picture, you’ve been all over the place, man.”

“I know this one, watched him grow up, thinking the world owed him. Well boo hoo, sure that neighborhood’s hard, most are born in it and not many get out. But Jensen Ackles had chances, more opportunities than most, but he chose to run with a bad crowd, the Havoc Riders. A lot of kids hookup with the local gangs, protection mostly, just hanging on the fringes, and keeping their noses clean for the most part. But not Ackles, he was their good little soldier and moved up fast. Lost count of the number of times I pulled him in, couldn’t get much to stick though, and he knew it. Too many times, just wanted to punch that smirk off his face. C’mon!” He banged on the door, this time yelling was heard from within and the door flung open by a bearded man holding a shotgun.

“We’re closed! What do you want?”

Fred flashed his badge, “Detective Lehne, my partner Detective Cohen, we need to ask you some questions about an assault case we’re working on. And I’d appreciate it if you’d put the shotgun away.”

“Shit, Ty Olsson and come in,” the man motioned them in as he walked to the bar and slipped the shotgun under the top , “Before you ask, gotta permit. We get a rough crowd here.”

“Yes, you do. About six months ago, one of your customers was attacked in the alley behind the bar.”

“The artist guy, right. Is this about that?”

Matt nodded, “Yes, Jared Padalecki. Were you working that night?”

“Naw, night off, but hold on.” He walked over to a door off to the side and pushed it open, “Hey, AJ, would you come out here?”

“AJ’s my manager, he was working the bar that night,” Ty explained as a shorter, burly man came from the backroom, drying his hands on a towel.

“What’s up boss?”

Fred stepped up, “Detectives Lehne,” he pointed to his right, “And Cohen. Six months ago, Jared Padalecki was attacked in the alley behind the bar, but we know he was in here beforehand, meeting with a client. We have some photos we’d like you to look at, see if you recognize any of them as being at the bar that night, maybe even had contact with Padalecki.”

“You’re kidding right?” AJ laughed, “I told the detectives everything I could remember back then, like the next day. And now you want me to remember some random guy that might have been talking with some other random guy months ago?”

Lehne grinned humorlessly, “I’m hoping that since one of those random guys was brutally attacked that random night months ago, so viciously that he’s lost his memory of that night and is still going through therapy to recover the use of his hands, that might have made an impression so that maybe you might have some recollection of what other random guys might have been here that night.” He spread the mugshots across the bar, four pictures in all, “Indulge me.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist.” AJ glanced over the pictures, his eyes widening over one, “You looking at Ackles for this?”

“Was he here that night?”

“He doesn’t come in often, not his kind of crowd. We tend to get the middle-clash biker wannabe’s, mostly jerks but they drink a lot and most tip decently. But yeah, I’ve seen him around, he’s working that bridge construction job across the river, stops by sometimes on his way home.”

“So, he could have been here that night?”

“Sure, it’s possible, he’s probably here once, twice a month. But he’s a good guy, this thing with the artist, nah, I don’t see Ackles for it.”

As the detectives walked back to the car, Matt turned to his partner, “Hardly a rousing indictment, no way we’d get a conviction with that testimony.”

“Well, it’s enough that we could pull Ackles in for a line-up, see if the kid recognizes him. Let’s take it to the DA, get a judge to sign off on a warrant.”

  


  


Jared smiled as he crawled into his bed and burrowed beneath the sheets. The dread he’d felt every night for months when he’d lie down to sleep as nearly gone. Ever since he’d finished the painting, the nightmare was abating, as if being chased away by a growing sense of comfort so that he no longer feared closing his eyes in slumber. Now, just a few weeks later, perversely, he looked forward to disappearing in his dreams.

The place of his nightmares was the same, cold dirty concrete, smells from garbage, vomit, urine, and more, the walls bathed in the pale, sickly yellow of the overhead streetlight. It began the same way, the tight grasp on his hand swinging him against the wall, then down to the ground. But instead of feeling his fingers crushed against the concrete, he felt the warmth enveloping him, caressing his skin, it was almost as if arms were hugging him, keeping him wrapped up in a comforting cocoon of safety. And the man in his painting, angry at times, but Jared was now certain it was not at him, he felt no fear with this embodiment of his mystery man, and he was just as sure that his mystery man was real.

Together they lay, caressing and exploring each other’s bodies. Soft skin over hard, muscled plains. Strength in every movement touch. A tentative touch on his cock, growing bolder, more forceful. Arching as fingers pressed, questing, against his hole. Turning his mystery man’s arms, accepting the first intrusion, painful at first, before there’s the overwhelming pleasure that takes him to the brink and over. Sated, he drifts off to deep sleep.

Across town, Jensen Ackles bolts awake, his cock twitching with the last gasps of his orgasm. The dream felt so real, remembering the sensation of tight heat surrounding his cock, the man writhing in Jensen’s embrace , his channel pulsating, milking Jensen’s cock as he achieved his own pleasure. Flopping back down, he marveled at the vividness of these dreams. 

They’d begun as just a sensation of anxiety, cold, desperate. And over the nights of the past few weeks, that dread grew more tangible, as if he could touch it, make it feel warm, safe. And as he stoked the warmth, comforted the hurt, a man sought him out in his dreams, and he welcomed this man, held him close and safe, and more.

As he fell back to sleep, he wondered if his mystery man could be real.

  


  


“I tell you, Steve. I’ve never had dreams like this before. It’s like the guy is really there, then I wake up and he isn’t.”

“Woah, seriously dude, I am not going to listen to you describe your wet dreams,” Steve Carlson laughed as he pulled open the door of the Easy Rider Saloon.

“Fuck no! But you know how in dreams, everything got this hazy look to it, and you feel kinda removed from everything?” Jensen pointed to a couple available stools at the end of the bar, and the two men headed in that direction.

“These, are like I’m there, living in the moment.” He reached out and grabbed Steve’s wrist, “If I did this to the guy in, it would feel exactly like that – warm, fleshy, a pulse – just like that.”

Jensen looked around, catching the attention of AJ, “Hey AJ, could we get a couple cold ones over here? So yeah, I guess for months, I haven’t been sleeping well, just feeling strange. Then a few weeks ago, they started getting more intense, and then the guy, same guy every night.”

Steve nodded, “Yep, that would fall into the strange category, do you recognize him?” 

“He seems familiar, but I can’t place him.” He smiled as AJ deposited the bottles in front of them and started to turn back to Steve but something in AJ’s expression caught his attention.

“Hey, something on your mind, AJ?”

“Yeah, wanted to let you know that the cops were in here last month, and your name has come up in their investigation.”

“Okay, what investigation? I think the statutes have run out on all the crimes of my misspent youth.”

“They’re still looking into that attack on the artist out back behind the bar, happened seven, oh eight months ago,” AJ shrugged.

“Huh, well, it wasn’t me. Who’s the artist?”

“Not a regular, don’t think he’d been here before, Padalecki is his name. “

“So he survived okay, didn’t he see who did it to him?”

AJ shook his head, “Nope, ended up with some sort of amnesia. Shame too, whoever did it broke his fingers too. And he’s an artist and all.”

Steve looked up from his phone, “Hey, I remember this guy from, yeah, was seven months ago. You probably remember him too. You got on your white horse, some asshole was hassling him.” He handed over his phone, googled on Jared Padalecki, Easy Rider, assault for images.

“That’s him Steve! Now I remember, big guy was hassling him maybe hitting on him, and this Padalecki guy I remember wasn’t small either but that other dude was big, 50 pounds easy on Padalecki. He wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Steve took his phone back, “Yep, that’s what I remember. I think while you were dealing with the asshole, Padalecki snuck out the back. He just disappeared while you and the other guy were yelling at each other.”

“AJ, did the cops leave a card or something? Steve and I’ll contact them with what we know, maybe help get the guy that did it.” 

“I know they left a card, let me see if I can track it down.”

As AJ walked away to find the information, Jensen turned to Steve and hissed, “That’s the guy! The one I’ve been dreaming about, it’s him.”

“Huh, gives whole new meaning to small worlds,” Steve replied as AJ returned.

“Here’s the card they left,” AJ passed it over to Jensen, “The older guy seemed to know you and didn’t seem to like you too much.”

“Oh that’s just fucking perfect,” Jensen groaned when he saw the name on the card, “You’re underestimating the depths of his dislike for me, AJ. This’ll be fun.”

“Well, good luck, and I’ll check back on you in a bit for the next round,” AJ promised leaving the two men to tend to other customers.

Steve looked at the card, “Lehne?”

“Yep, fuck my life. He and I go way back to when I was a kid and he was the neighborhood beat cop busting me for shoplifting. He’s like the Sheriff in the Marley/Clapton song, and for what, I don’t know.”

  


  


“You sure about this?” Steve asked warily, eyeing the double glass front doors of the precinct as if he was expecting a swat team to storm out, guns blazing.

“We already know he wants to pin this on you, feels like we’re just feeding you to him on a silver platter.”

Jensen snorted, “Just doing my civic duty here. You and I could be material witnesses and it would be criminal not to come forward. Besides, I’ve got you for my alibi, what could go wrong?”

“Yeah, right, we’re just a couple law-abiding citizens – got nothing to worry about.”

“Well, we doing this?” Jensen checked the street and jaywalked across. Steve rolled his eyes and followed close behind.

“Look at that smug bastard, what’s he up to?” Fred scowled through the one-way at the man on the other side in the interrogation room, kicked back with his feet crossed at the ankles plopped on the table.

Matt replied in the manner of the junior partner who’s been listening to long-winded, angry rants of the senior partner for weeks, “It could be just exactly what he says, he and his friend may have evidence regarding the commitment of a crime. 

“Fred, as much as you want to take this guy down, you got to admit that we have nothing on him. A painting from an amnesiac victim and an _I know the guy but don’t know if he was here that night_ , are not enough for conviction, and it wasn’t even enough for a warrant. C’mon, let’s listen to what they have to say. Maybe they do have evidence that will finally close this case, get justice for Jared. That’s the important thing right?”

Fred turned his irritation on his partner, “Fine, but if he opens the door, I’m going at him both barrels – that’s his mug in Padlecki’s painting, amnesia or not, it got painted there for a reason.

Alright, let’s do this.” Fred Lehne pulled the door open with determination

“Well, well, well, Christmas came early this year. Nice of ya to come see me, Ackles, I’ve actually been looking for you,” Fred ’s smile was more shark-like than friendly, “And here you are, so accommodating and all.”

Jensen smirked, “Heya Freddy, it’s been too long, dude! Looks like the years coulda been nicer to you though, getting old sucks, huh?”

“Aw Jenny, as charming as I remember,” he pushed Jensen’s feet off the table and took a seat across from him while Matt leaned against the wall, arms crossed. 

“That’s my partner, Detective Cohen,” Fred motioned with his shoulder and Mat nodded, “Matt this piece of shit is Jensen Ackles, how he has never done serious time is a source of constant amazement to me. Now that the intros are done, you called for this meet – why are we here?”

Jensen shook his head, grinning, “Freddie, you always overestimated my role with the Riders. They were what I needed back then. But I grew up, I’ve moved on, work a regular job and everything, just like any regular Joe. This whole ‘kill it before it grows’ vibe you got going, you gotta let go, man. it can’t be healthy, probably taking years off your life,” Jensen leaned forward, his expression earnest, “let it go, Fred.

Now, I hear you’ve been looking for me about something that happened at the Easy Rider months’ back. As far as what happened to that artist, I did not beat him up in the alley out back, didn’t even talk to him. I do remember him though. There was one night that me and Steve were kicking a few back after a long shift, and we saw that artist being hassled by another guy, fairly tall and big, like he worked out. We went over to try and get the guy off Padalecki’s back, words were exchanged, maybe some pushing and shoving, at the end of it, Padalecki had disappeared and we all went our separate ways.

I know you want me for this,” Jensen shrugged, “But it wasn’t me, and I don’t even know if that whole thing with the other guy was even the same night. But considering we were right up in each other’s faces, I got a really good look at him. Put me in a room with a sketch artist, sit me down with some mugshots, maybe I can help you find the guy that really did it.”

“And what if I told you that Padalecki remembered you,” Lehne pushed a photo of the painting across the table, “what do you have to say to that.”

Jensen lifted the picture off the table, studying it, “The likeness is amazing,” he flipped the picture around to lining up his own face to it.

“Does he say that this,” he lays the picture on the table, pushing it back to Fred, “Is the guy that attacked him?”

Fred sat quietly for a moment staring at the picture, raises his head staring into the eyes of the man across the table, and challenges “Are you willing to stand in a lineup?”

  


  


“Are you out of your mind?” Steve berated his friend as they sat on hard plastic chairs in the hall. A uniformed policeman stood nearby, seemingly ignoring the two but obviously placed as their unofficial guard.

Turning his back to their unofficial guard, Steve hissed at Jensen, “This is just too fucking stupid. In fact, there are no words that completely express the magnitude of the stupidity – what are you going to do if Padalecki says you’re the one?”

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck, the only tell of how nervous he felt, “Well, since I didn’t beat him up, that won’t happen. I don’t know how to explain it but doing this feels right. I’ve been dreaming about the guy for weeks, and now that I know he’s real, I guess I want him to know that I’m real too.”

“You got a lot of faith, there’s a lot of innocent people doing time cause of that kink faith. Should have stuck with going through mugshots. Hopefully you’re not sitting in a cell after this, I want company tomorrow when I come back to go through the books.”

“What do you mean, Matt? Are you’re saying you found the guy?” Jared questioned as Matt escorted him through the police station. It had been two hours earlier that Jared had received the call from the younger detective, asking if he could come to the station for a lineup.

“That’s what we hope you’ll tell us Jared. We have a person of interest that has admitted to being at the Easy Rider on the night you were. And he also admits to having some contact with you as well.”

“But I don’t remember that night, I don’t remember who attacked me, what good is it going to do for me to look at a lineup if I can’t ID anyone? And I don’t ID him and he is the guy, does that mean he gets away with it?”

“I know, my partner thinking that if you see him, it’ll trigger your memory,” Matt laughed, “Pretty that happens only in a Lifetime movie. If you don’t remember, just say that, and it’s done. 

“Here we are,” Matt motioned Jared through the door to a small darkened room. It looked just like they do in the cop shows, long window across the opposite side, facing into another room. 

Fred Lehne was already there and walked over, “Thanks for coming in Jared, there’s no wrong answer here. This is one-way glass, they won’t be able to see you from the other side. Take a look and let us know if you recognize anyone. And if you don’t remember, just say so.”

“Okay, but honestly, I don’t think there’s any point to this, I still don’t remember.” Jared centered himself in front of the window.

On the other side of the glass, a side door opened and a group of men walked through one by one. Jared couldn’t suppress a gasp as the fourth man sauntered through, one of the taller men in the lineup, he reached his spot and faced the glass, nearly opposite where Jared stood, stunned.

Fred stood next to Jared, trying to hide his excitement, “Do you recognize anyone here, Jared, is the man who attacked here?”

Jared stated intently at the man in the fourth position, this was the man from his nightmares, from his dreams, the one he had painted.

“Jared,” Fred Lehne persisted, “do you see your attacker here?”

Jared took a deep breath and turned away from the window, “I’m sorry Detective Lehne, the man that attacked me isn’t one of these men.”

“Wait Jared, it’s just that you don’t remember, right? Don’t worry about it, we’ll get him another way.”

“Yeah, sure, am I done here?” Jared asked.

Matt nodded, “Sure, thanks for coming in. I’ll escort you out.”

“You got lucky man,” Steve shook his head, “Real lucky.”

Side by side, the two men walked out of the precinct, a couple hours after the lineup. Fred Lehne had kept Jensen for additional questioning before finally thanking him for coming in, and confirming that he would return the following day for the sketch artist, and to go through mugshots.

“What can I say, Steve,” Jensen smirked, “ The systems works when you’re as innocent as a babe.”

“Yeah, right, like I said, lucky.”

“Excuse me?”

Jensen turned around, startled to see the tall man he knew only from his dreams. When Lehne held him over, he figured he’d lost that shot to meet the artist. Fate though apparently had other plans.

“Hey there, I’m Jensen Ackles. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally, Jared Padalecki.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful [ TxDorA ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TxDorA/pseuds/TxDorA) for creating the beautiful and inspiring art, and for being a lovely person! Please be sure to visit her art post and let her know.
> 
> Thank you to the Mods for running this challenge, and for being patient and kind!
> 
> And thank you for reading!


End file.
